Thomas Sanders had always suffered from heightened anxiety, but even he never thought something like this could never really happen. Sure, he'd thought about it, been scared about it, but he'd never... really... considered it as a possibility? But now here he was, in an alleyway in the dead of night, shoes covered in spilled milk, and a guy pointing an actual gun at his head, demanding Thomas hand over any and all money he may have. And yes, this was bad enough. But it got even worse, somehow, when his four (fake! pretend!) pieces of his personalities appeared to save him- Roman, Logan, Patton, and Virgil. This was going from worse, to worse.

Pairings: LoganXPatton aka LogicXMorality and RomanXVirgil aka PrinceXAnxiety.

Cover belongs to ABD Illustrates: www .youtube channel/UCBwZRhr0Xsxf7csWECf_Mmg

No. No no no.

This wasn't meant to happen! Thomas had been stressed enough about going out to buy milk from the corner store, but he hadn't really had a choice since he had already been halfway done in his attempt to bake when he noticed the missing ingredient and hadn't wanted to throw the entire thing away. Normally he avoided going out for things like this when it was already dark out, but he had decided once couldn't kill him, and he couldn't let his anxiety hold him back all the time!

At this point, he found himself wishing he had let his anxiety hold him back. He had gotten to the store, bought the milk, and started to walk back- when he had been forcibly dragged into an alleyway, slammed against a wall (milk falling and breaking open, spilling onto his shoes) and told by a clearly homeless and deranged man to hand over all his money or die.

Did Thomas mention the gun pointed at his head? Because that was important!

Now if only Thomas had any money. Thomas shuddered, back aching from being pushed against the wall so roughly, but that was the least of his problems. Staring into the beady blue eyes of Mister Insane, he gulped dryly. "I don't h-have any money," he managed to say, internally flipping out. Nope, not good, not good at all- and if he screamed, he had an idea that he would get his brains blown out.

Clearly, the homeless guy didn't believe him anyways. "Bullshit," he snapped, eyes flashing with rage. "Of course you don't!" Laughing, their faces way too close, Thomas could smell the rot and alcohol of the breath of the other. "That's what you bought your milk with, right?" The man continued to laugh in between his words. "What do you think I am, an idiot?"

"Of course not!" Appease the man with the gun, seemed easy enough... wrong! "I- you can check my pockets. My bag, my- I don't have money on me, at all-"

"Well then you're useless, aren't you?"

"I shall save you and slay the beast!" Suddenly, a body slammed into the homeless man's, sending them both toppling to the ground. The gun went off, a crack in the night, and Thomas cried out in slight pain, hands snapping up to cover his ears at the way too loud and way too close noise.

Fear filled him, and he grabbed his phone to call nine one one- who knew who had been shot! He could only hope, at best, it was no one, and at worse, the homeless man. Suddenly, the male that had come to his rescue managed to pin the other under him, grabbing a rock off the ground and knocking him unconscious. He was too in the shadows for Thomas to see properly, so Thomas decided to try to figure out if anyone, or which of them, had been shot wasn't as important as calling nine one one.

Just before he could hit the call button, a hand grabbed his wrist. "I wouldn't do that," a... familiar? voice tsked softly. Thomas flinched, quickly looking up to see who it was before his eyes widened.

Logic?

And finally, finally, Thomas fainted.